Fellowship of the Lost Ones
by Elvish Nightmare
Summary: Nine forgotten or abused characters from the LoTR movie set out on a dangerous mission to ovethrow the Dark Director by destroying the Glasses! Very stupid, very pointless, should be guaranteed to make you laugh at least once! Once I tell you! Edited 3-05


Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien has all rights to the characters and their songs! (Their actions are mine! Mwahahaha!) The movie belongs to Peter Jackson and New Line..

A/N: I actually liked the movie but I felt like I had to poke fun at it for the lack of a few of my favorite characters. This fic was edited and somewhat revised 3.18.05.

The Fellowship of the Glasses

Book I:

Fredegar looked down at the table sadly; it was his birthday and no one but Folco had dropped by to visit him. He never had managed to get himself a birthday part organized, ever since Frodo and his other friends had gone off on some "secret" mission.

"Don't feel so bad, Fatty! Cheer up! I bet this day will get better as it goes on!"

At that moment a man dressed in blue with yellow boots and a brown beard bounded into their hobbit hole singing:

_"Hey dol! Merry dol! Ring a dong dillo!_

_Ring a dong! Hop along! Fal lal the willow!_

_Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!"_

Fredegar jumped out of his chair and hurtled himself into Tom's arms, "Tom! You're late!"

"Of course I am!" Tom laughed. "You should try getting here all the way from the Old Forest!" The two hobbits eyed the man. It seemed they were hoping for a better answer, an answer they could laugh at.

"Er.. Anyway, I have come here to warn you of a great evil! You remember those glasses you found on the side of the road the other day?"

Fredegar slowly nodded, not understanding why his glasses should have anything to do with the evil sorts.

Tom sighed, "To put it short there was a spiffy Lord of the Rings movie made, yet some of the characters were forgotten!" Here Tom coughed. "The glasses you found the other day belong to the Dark Director, Peter Jackson! If he is not stopped all of Middle-earth will be forgotten and so on and so forth! You must destroy his glasses in the fires of Mount Bad Vision, in the land Eyedor! I'm not saying this quest will be easy, you could lose your lives, and I'm not saying this quest isn't pointless, but that's only because it is. Folco will go with you, oh, and whatever you do, _don't put on the glasses_! Now, I'll meet you at The Prancing Pony in Bree." With that said, Tom left singing to himself as he went, not bothering to see if the two hobbits understood or cared. On the way out the door he accidentally knocked over the giant cardboard set supposedly representative of the front of the hobbit's home. "Heh. Oops." He picked it back up and walked on.

After Tom had gone and closed the doors, the two hobbits turned to each other, "Did you understand him?" Fredegar asked.

Folco sighed. "Good and well. Now, let's go pack our stuff and leave for Bree. We must completely fail to remember to get stuck in a giant willow and visit Tom's house on the way!"

Out on the road Folco swore he could hear something and having seen a movie or two himself he yelled, "Get off the road!" Grabbing Fred, he threw himself into some nearby bushes, located just beside some portable cardboard trees.

Instead of the unknown terror they were expecting, an Elf could be seen running down the street at high speeds screaming his head off.

"An Elf!" Fred leaped out from behind the trees and placed himself in front of the crazed Elf. "And just who might you be, fair Elf?"

In response the Elf screamed in his face before breaking down in tears onto his shoulder. After a good few minutes, the hobbits had calmed him down enough to find out what was wrong. "It was horrible, I tell you!" The Elf wailed through sobs. "No one will ever know who I am! I've been forgotten!" The hobbits realized he was referring to a certain movie, and they patted his back, helping the Elf up and giving him a fresh box of Kleenex.

"Have no fear, fair Elf. We are journeying to the depths of Eyedor to destroy the Dark Director's glasses!"

Folco elbowed Fred in the stomach and whispered, "We can not trust him! What if he's with the Enemy?"

The Elf gasped aloud, "Eyedor! Why would two young hobbits with a life ahead of them desire to go there?"

"We told you! We must destroy the Glasses! Would you like to come with us?"

Gildor shrugged. "Sure." And with that Gildor the Elf joined them as they journeyed to Bree.

Folco found himself swearing he'd heard something on the road again. This time the Elf thought faster and had the two hobbits and himself hidden amongst the fake scenery once again.

A dark limousine inched its way ever so slowly down the road. Black hooded creatures could be seen occasionally poking their head out a window and sniffing. The hobbits and the Elf felt an evil presence, and Fred had to resist the urge to put on the Glasses. Feeling rather frustrated, Gildor picked up a nearby rubber rock and threw it down the road.

Just as he had expected, the limo took off down the road after the bouncing rock and all was safe again. The three travelers let out sighs of relief and once again made their way to Bree, this time just a little ways off the road for precaution.

By the time the party reached Bree, they had crossed one river, were attacked by black limos about four times and were now soaking wet. Not bothering to ask the guy at the gate for permission, the three barged in and made their way to the Prancing Pony.

Once inside they took off their hoods and found themselves a nice table to sit at. Folco set himself down at the table with a giant mug in his hand looking pleased with himself.

"What is that?" Fred asked eyeing the mug of ale.

"It's a pint!"

"It comes in pints?" Fred seemed surprised and immediately left to get himself one.

Gildor, being the sensible Elf that he was, simply sat there and kept watch on everything. He soon realized a dirty young boy in the corner was staring at him and his friends. As the waiter walked by he tugged his sleeve and asked him of the boy in the corner, "Who is that boy in the corner?"

The waiter looked about cautiously before answering, "No one knows what 'is proper name is. But 'round here he's called Skipper. He's one of them Rangers from the North, or at least he's supposed to be…we're not quite sure about that rumor. "

Gildor nodded his thanks and eyed the boy in the corner with suspicion.

"Dammit Elf! Why do you keep staring at me! You act like you've never seen a young boy before! Oh, and uh, you might want to stop your Halfling friends over there. It seems they've gotten into a bit of stripping fun!" The boy snickered and turned himself about in his spinning chair; he was a boy after all.

Gildor blinked and turned around to find Folco and Fred on top of a table singing a bath song and doing a strip tease.

_"Sing hey! For the bath at close of day_

_That washes the weary mud away!_

_A loon is he that will not sing:_

_O! Water Hot is a noble thing!"_

Before the hobbits could finish off the song with the last three verses, Gildor had them off the table and down on the ground begging for mercy. Several of the men in the bar started a small cheer, expecting the threesome to "get it on."

Feeling highly disgusted Gildor dragged the stoned hobbits over to the corner were the creepy-boy-who-stared led them to a room upstairs."

"You draw too much attention to yourself Mr. Bolger!"

Fred whined, now coming to his senses. "But I never even used the Glasses."

"Hush! Those foul spectacles are not to be spoken of here! Someone could be listening!" And indeed a small mouse crept out from under one of the beds and scurried across the floor. "Die! Spy of Jackson!" The boy stabbed his sword through the gut of the mouse.

"Eww…" Three voices murmured in unison.

"Er… Anyway, tell me, are you afraid?" He waited for no answer. "Well, your not nearly frightened enough! By the end you'll have wet your poor little hobbit knickers and run home crying to your mother!" He coughed as he realized he was becoming over dramatic and quickly changed subjects. "Hmm…I think this is supposed to be the part where I hide you, and some evil guys in black limos come along and try to kill you but end up ruining some good laundry instead. By the way, the guys in the limos are the Black Drivers, they are neither living nor dead. They are what hunt you; they are attracted to your fuzzy hobbit feet! No, wait, that's not right!" He thought for a moment. "Aha! They seek the object you have!"

Slowly, as if destined to do so, Fred pulled out the thick Glasses and held them for all to see. Outside in the dark of night, engines could be heard roaring to life. "Quick! I must lead you into the unknown wilderness!" Skipper picked up his pack and the others stumbled after him. On their way out the inn, they could hear and see a hooded figure asking for "Shire" and "Fred" with a soft, sibilant hiss.

After days of senseless and pointless traveling, Skipper led them to a giant rock labeled Weather Top, complete with lift. Skipper wandered off and left the others to unpacking on the top of the rocky hill pretending to be a massive plateau of sorts.

An hour later Fred awoke to find the other two up and making sausages. "Hey! You're eating without me!"

Folco and Gildor sighed in relief, having expected Fred to quickly stomp on their fire and put it out. "Would you like some?" Gildor held out a plate to Fred.

"Don't mind if I do! Oh, wait! I see something down there!" The other two jumped to their feet and looked to see what they could see. In the distance, bright lights in pairs of twos could be seen driving down a hill at top speeds; there would be a lot of road kill leftover for supper that night.

"Oh no! The Drivers!" Fred pulled out his sword and made to run away, only to trip over his furry feet and land on the cold hard rock.

As the Drivers came onto the mountain, having left their "steeds" at the bottom, they quickly threw Gildor and Folco over the two foot high 'mountain' and proceeded towards Fred with their swords drawn.

In sudden hopeless desperation Fred whipped out the Glasses and put them on, disappearing in a puff of thick, black smoke. Yet the Drivers still came after him, slowly walking forwards as if it were their eternal wedding day.

"Gosh diddly darn! They can see me!" Fred cried. If they hadn't been able to see him, the Drivers most assuredly had heard him now.

The lead Driver stepped forward, pulled out his cell phone, and punched in a few numbers. Within seconds a faint portion of the "Concerning Hobbits" theme could be heard coming from the depths of Fred's pants.

"Excuse me, kind Drivers. Phone call." Fred reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and flipped it on. His ear was hit with a high-pitched static noise, and he fell over in pain. Laughing hysterically, the Drivers took off back down the mountain by way of the lift in back. When they reached the bottom, they climbed into their cars of doom and took off down the road.

Most conveniently, the Glasses had slipped off Fred in his throws of pain so that when Skipper and the others had returned they were able to find him.

"What's wrong with him, Skipper?" Folco whispered, a bit overly concerned for his friend.

"He's been hit with a bad connection. I knew those Drivers should have switched to Sprint for a more clearer service! Oh, um….He'll most likely turn into one of them if we don't get him help."

"Can't you help him?"

Skipper looked down and thought for a moment, "No. But Elrond of the Elves in Rivendell can."

"But Rivendell is six days away!" Folco cried.

"How would you know? You've never been there!" Gildor eyed Folco suspiciously. "I bet you've been secretly conversing with the Enemy through that shiny rock of yours!"

"It was a lucky guess! And besides! They say so in the movie!"

"He has a point, Gildor. Are we in need of another screening?" Skipper said.

As if to emphasize the fact that he was in serious pain and could turn into a Lenswraith (for that was their other name) if he didn't get help in time (meaning there was no time to sit and watch the film), Fred let out a small yet rather loud groan.

"Oh right! We must save him! We must take him to Rivendell where Agent Elrond can heal him!" Skipper picked up Fred and threw him over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. "Onward!"

"Skipper, can we sing along the way." Folco asked.

"No! There are Lenswraiths following us!"

"Can we hum then?" Gildor suggested.

"_**No!**_"

"Well, if they didn't hear your shout, Skipper, I'm sure they won't hear a bit of our singing."

As if in answer, the faint sound of engines in the distance reached their ears, and an Elf on a horse appeared in front of them.

"Quick! I will take Fred with me back to Rivendell!"

"_**Hey!**_ You're not Arwen!" Skipper shouted.

The Elf thwacked Skipper over the head. "Of course not! I am Glorfindel! The true savior of Frodo the Hobbit! I have come now to help rescue Fred in the same fashion that I saved his friend!"

Skipper shrugged, "Oh, alright then. But I want him when you get back."

The hobbit and two Elves gave Skipper odd looks before shaking their heads and disregarding his last comment.

"I am off to Rivendell! But before I get there I'll have a race with the Lenswraiths which I will win! Though I am on horse and they are in car! The Lenswraiths will stop in the middle of the ford and by muttering a few curse words a wave of water with little pink ponies riding the front will crash into them and cause them to either get out of their cars or drown!" Glorfindel said, riding off into the distance with Fred the Hobbit seated in front of him.


End file.
